


the kingdom is silent without you

by gael_itarille



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Family Angst, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Mirkwood, Other, Pre-War of the Ring, Serpents of the North
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-07-29 16:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20085280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gael_itarille/pseuds/gael_itarille
Summary: Family, is perhaps, cruelest to itself.





	the kingdom is silent without you

**Author's Note:**

> A fic meant to be somewhat of a part 2 for "ashes to ashes", but it can be read alone. This fic is set in Greenwood, after Thranduil battles the dragons.
> 
> Enjoy! xx

Thranduil stared at the wood through the open doors of his balcony, eyes unreadable. He shifted, reaching his damaged arm carefully out towards the chalice of wine on his nightstand. With an inhale of pain, he lifted the cup to his lips.

_Diluted_.

A sharp knock sounded from the wall, and the Elvenking hummed. The door to his chambers opened, the creak of wood interrupting the melody of the forest outside.

"Aran-nîn. Lord Elrond gave specific instructions for you to allow your left arm to heal. You should not be using it- much less for drinking wine."

"Do spare me your sentiment, Galion," said Thranduil- lips curving upward slightly and eyes gaining mirth.

"Yes, well, you were never one to follow instruction." Greenwood's butler stepped closer to the bed, surveying the almost-frail form of his ruler. At the sight, his heart weighed a bit more. 

"Is that why you put water in my wine?"

Looking away with a slight smile, Galion replied.

"Perhaps. Although, I did not expect you to drink it."

Letting an amused puff escape his lips, Thranduil scoffed. The two rested in peace for a minute, gazing at no place in particular until the king's attendant broke the silence. 

"You called me here, Aran-nîn?"

"I did. You must...do something for me," said Thranduil, authority returning to his voice- a self-proclaimed power straightening his spine. The atmosphere changed- the air became rigid, and the forest seemed to still, the songs of Greenwood lost to formality. 

A different kind of dignity entering the steward- tainted with restraint and the poise of a royal court- he spoke, "And may I ask what for?"

"I'd like for you to become Legolas' godfather." Galion felt his jaw slack and then clench, expression shifting from surprise to unsettlement. He closed his eyes, inhaling. _Formality_\- he reminded himself.

"And why did you not ask this of me before?" His speech was tense- coiled- unlike the usual demeanour of light banter that seemed to exude from his very footsteps. The Elvenking stiffened almost imperceptibly - turning to face the ellon with a furrowed brow. He was met with narrowed eyes- brown irises portraying their vexation. 

"Pardon?"

"You did not ask this of me when Legolas was born and you did not ask this of me even when the Queen perished. So by _Valar_, why do you ask me now?"

_Oh_. 

Thranduil let his posture deflate slowly, releasing a small trickle of words- hoping to say nothing more that would allow the damn that held back his fears to burst free. 

"Mellon, please- I need you to promise-"

Galion interrupted, disregarding the newfound softness in his king's tone without hesitation, "Answer the question." The butler exhaled sharply, the beginnings of a scowl edging onto his face. 

"I did not expect to come so close-"

"So close to _death?_ Is that what you were going to tell me?" Gone was the ease of their previous conversation, replaced by a cold, biting wind. There was no howl nor cry- only a silence that weighed down his chest and a strain that pulled at his ease until he frayed. The ellon was pacing now- shoes scraping against stone in a cacophony of barely-bridled animosity. 

"If I die, you must take care of Legolas, at least until he is of age to rule. _Please_, Galion-"

The regal king almost felt as if he was begging- for long had Legolas' safety been on his mind, and the recent brush with death had solidified his fears until they could no longer be ignored. He resented himself- unable to protect that which he held dear with unwavering confidence and surety. 

"_If you die_?", Galion parroted- incredulous- voice dropping into a rarely heard and wholly startling tone of ire, "Do not ask this of me. Legolas is _your_ son- and _your_ responsibility." 

"He's but a child- he needs someone to nurture him if I depart-" Greenwood's ruler grit his teeth, pouring all his desperation and feelings of strife into his words- hoping that his friend would somehow understand. 

And the stress of the past mayhem took its toll. To Mordor with _formality_. 

"And that he does! But it will not, and will _never_ be me! You- as a parent- should have known better!"

Thranduil's patience had been pulled too hard- and it snapped. The insult to his parenting wounded him- tearing into a hidden but often festering insecurity in the king, and his breath was stolen- turning quickly into blackened hostility. Pride rearing up in defence, he left his bed, placing himself in the path of his steward with an expression full of rage- reserved for only the worst of prisoners. 

"Galion! I am _your_ king, and you _will_ do what I tell you!" He snarled, baring teeth and a bellowing temper. The elf stood to his full height, speech booming with authority. Slamming his hand on the nightstand, Thranduil sent the wine goblet tumbling to the floor.

"Your injury, as grievous as it may be, does not give you the ability to conjure both the requests and the petulance of a child!"

"You seem to have forgotten," Thranduil seethed, "that _you_ serve _me_\- _you_ obey _me_!" 

Venomous were his words and rampant were his emotions, for the glamour that adorned his face began to peel- flaking off in a gruesome replication of the injury underneath. 

Unintimidated, Greenwood's steward did not pause nor falter.

"No,_ Thranduil!_ I am not a slave, and I will not kiss your feet! I obey my _friend_, not a tyrant!" Galion was shouting now, matching his king's volume in full- a glower on his face and deadly seriousness in his tone. In a single moment, regret flooded into Thranduil. Galion- though a servant- was a friend- part of the family. Greenwood's ruler went silent. He sank onto the bed in a mixture of shame and sorrow. His cheek- ruddy with rage- abandoned colour, turning pale once more. With an exasperated huff, the steward went on - now emphatic and firm with simmering fury. 

"Everything you have asked of me, I have done. Each task, I have attended to; each meeting, I have gone to; each battle, I have ridden out to! Thranduil! When you were Heir Apparent, I had a choice! I needed not to do what I did not wish to- if you were out on patrol due to some childish whim, you did not force me to accompany you! If you were to sample your father's wines without permission, I needed not to join you! Yet, when I desired to fight alongside you, against serpents that even the strongest of elves struggle against, you deny me that freedom! So, pray, tell me- do I still have a choice now?"

Guilt flashing through his features, Thranduil stared at his hands, "...You do." In a vain effort to preserve his dignity, he closed his eyes- magic slowly beginning to cover up sinew and muscle.

"Then I choose to refuse this task! I have done much for you- but I cannot raise your child! To do so would be to allow you to give up- on both life and your family! I cannot do that!"

Almost as if muted, the king said no words- head bowed and lacking his customary self-assurance. 

"What has become of you? You leave this kingdom with only a small force- however elite they may be- and return gravely injured, halfway to Mandos' halls? You cannot risk your life so carelessly!"

Thranduil's silence continued.

"Are you attempting to be like King Oropher? Charging into battle without adequate preparation and infantry- simply relying on the strength of few but facing the dangers of many?"

Again, his words were met with no response. The shouting had ceased now- replaced by a volume of gravity and -to the king, unexpected concern.

"Legolas- a fragile thing, even now- is lucky that he has not suffered the same fate you did. Despite all your foolishness, you remain. And I-", Galion quieted, all hidden emotion from the night of the serpent's attack gushing out in words that gnawed at his stomach until he set them free, "I wish you had stayed in the Greenwood. I wish that you had never been on the brink of death- marred by dragon fire and- and alone while in such a state. _I should have been there, Thranduil_. I should have been there to aid you."

Finally, the king spoke, "Galion." The butler -now seemingly exhausted- paused, releasing a shaky breath. 

"I would do it again if it meant protecting Legolas and yourself." What the king uttered was quiet, but Galion felt as if he spoke volumes. His statement had confirmed his fears, as well as his loyalty, and not in all his years of service, had he ever been at such a loss. He swallowed what he hoped were not tears and pushed on, voice smaller than it had ever been before.

"I _cannot_ allow that. I cannot allow you to ..._die_."

Thranduil looked up, shock gracing his face once more. And suddenly, Galion was in a tight embrace, the other elf's arms around him in touching sincerity. His grief came out in torrents. 

"When you returned from the mountain, Legolas- he- he was so _worried_. He is barely more than an _elfling_, Thranduil- he _needs_ you. You cannot leave him. You- you should have seen him- he never once strayed from your side." 

Galion felt his liege tense- body still with realization. It was unfathomable, truly, how both father and son could -at times- fail to grasp the depths of their affections for each other. 

"Oh, how he cried. There was no healer nor visitor that had not left in tears- even Lord Elrond could not have fended off such immense sorrow. The halls- they were in havoc, and affairs that I had not known even existed had been thrust upon me and- _and_ there were homes to be rebuilt and forests to heal and I had never known the trial it was to run these lands! You cannot leave this kingdom- you have lead us through the harshest of times. Surely the wood would fall apart under another's jurisdiction-" This time, it was Galion who was desperate- desperate for a friend that would be alive for more than one war or one bloody conflict. Desperate for a friend he had known all his life, who had stayed throughout his losses and his pains.

Thranduil released a breath- eyes conveying guilt, pain, sorrow- but overwhelmingly, appreciation. 

"Galion. I-...I cannot promise you my survival." The statement was short- but quick in delivering its jab- a reassurance of a fact Greenwood's steward already knew. 

"I know." There was no stutter - for both elves knew that life was fickle, and Galion, in his heart, had kept the insecurity of immortality ever since the Battle of Dagorlad. Loosening himself from Thranduil’s kind grip, the elf stood- looking down at his sitting king. 

"But...you must promise me that you will try."

Tentatively, Thranduil gave his faithful companion a soft smile of something akin to comfort, hope pulling at the edges of his lips. 

"I slew a dragon- and, I returned alive, though with this blasted scar. Have I not tried enough?"

Raising an eyebrow and donning a smirk, Galion headed towards the door.

"Well, you could afford to drink a stronger wine."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please, let me know what you thought!


End file.
